


Aftermath

by murdocscollar



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Band, Best Friends, Drinking, Drugs, F/M, Gorillaz - Freeform, Music, Smoking, Swearing, toxic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdocscollar/pseuds/murdocscollar
Summary: Sweeping after every mess her best friend ever made, it was no surprise when Alexia got dragged into Stuart's new lifestyle when he gained consciousness from being in a coma for a year, now tied eternally with the sadistic and infamous Murdoc Faust Niccals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So first and foremost, this is my first time ever posting on this site, as I'm usually found on Wattpad. Now that we've got that clear, let's move on.  
> Some scenes within this fanfic is made to go along throughout the phases of the band, though there will be some changes so it'd be easier for me to accommodate my plot.  
> There will be some parts within the story that will probably seem off though, so if there's anything offsetting please don't be shy to let me know, and I'll make corrections if there's any to be made.  
> Oh, and being from U.S, my vocabulary isn't the same as that in Britain (color vs colour, airplane vs aeroplane, etc etc) but im trying to differentiate the spelling between the two, so if you also see me struggling with that, help ya girl out and feel free to comment or IM me bout it (;

┏━━━━━━━━━┓  
15 August 1997  
┗━━━━━━━━━┛

My weekly chores were put to a halt as the home phone rang, having me rush to go answer it with soapy hands while my brother was engaged in his room, hooking up his new DVR.

I mentally thanked today's advancement in technology for Caller ID making it possible for me to know who was ringing me, the small boxed screen displaying "Stu's Work". Briskly wiping my lathery hands on my jeans to pick up the phone before it could be sent to voicemail, I greeted who I thought was to be Stuart on the other line.

"Hey, Stu, what's up?" I cheerfully welcomed my childhood friend.

"Uh, it's not Stuart," the somewhat familiar voice corrected. "It's his manager."

"Oh," I raised a brow, twirling my finger around the spiral cord attached to the landline, curious as to why he would be calling me. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so," he sounded a bit concerned, though I wouldn't go to the expense and say he gave a rat's ass about his employee. It was often that Stu would tell me how his boss would hound him, even go as far as to threatening to cut his next paychecks in half. "Stuart's been in a terrible accident."

"What kind of accident?" I tensed up, now gnawing on the cord as I awaited his elaboration. Stu was prone to suffering, frequently coming over to visit me with new bruises, scars, cuts, you name it.

"Look, could you just hurry on over and see to him?" He turned impatient, now speaking to me as if I worked for him. "You were the first one listed on his emergency contact card, and the cops are waiting so they could interview me."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I decided not to dawn on his temper, more worried about my friend's wellbeing. Hanging up on the impious man, I was quick to snag my purse, rushing to the car without bothering to tell my brother where I was headed.

My mind began to swell up with all these heinous scenarios, pressuring me to race through traffic in order to get to the shop in a twinkling of an eye. At this point I didn't have a care in the world if any authorities were behind my tail, all I knew was that I needed to be by Stu's side, for whatever predicament he was trapped in.

It took me shorter than expected to arrive at Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, pulling up to a congested crime scene where yellow "Do Not Cross" tape was strewn about the perimeter. Recklessly planting my car between the white line of two vacant parking spaces, I shot out from the vehicle, dashing to the front of the store despite the numerous policemen who instructed me to stay behind the flamboyant strip.

"Where is he?!" I shouted at the store manager accompanied by two more cops the moment I was in his ear's reach, mounting on the tip of my toes to test out if I'd be able to peer into the store windows over the heads that obstructed my view.

The man directed me to the flashing ambulance standing a few feet apart from us, a blue haired male I knew all too well strapped onto the stretcher and being taken in by paramedics.

"Stu!" I shrieked, not wasting another second that I could use to be at his aid. As I approached the cripple, I recognised a succession of blood gushing from his left eye, streaming down his profile and onto his now crimson-permeated shirt. Gagging, I clasped a hand over my mouth, thwarting from the gruesome sight to catch a big gulp of air, knowing copious amounts of blood and gore tend to make me squeamish.

"Ma'am, do you happen to know this young man?" The paramedic questioned, offering a blind eye to the fact that I was on the brink of regurgitating this morning's poached eggs.

"Y-Yes," I kept my hand up to my face, mustering the courage to avert my gaze on her. "I'm on his emergency contact."

"Would you like to ride with us?" She proceeded to assist in hoisting the stretcher into the ambulance, climbing in with her partner as they anticipated my answer.

"I'll just follow from my car." I shook my head, definitely not willing to be anywhere near that much blood, no matter how much Stuart may be like family to me.

During the chaos of it all, I had completely managed to let slip my mind the question of how this incident transpired, pressing myself to remember to ask personnel for answers the moment Stu was admitted to the hospital.

To locate parking and the signing in process was troublesome, only increasing my anxiety as my head throbbed. Rapidly smashing the button to the lift wasn't helping, my nerves becoming more jittery as the lift was taking its sweet time to descend.

On the way up I began to pick at my fingernails, praying silently to any God up above, hoping they'd see to it that Stuart was at least able-bodied. It was the most I could wish for, knowing his eye didn't seem to be doing so well a mere moments ago.

Swinging the door to his assigned hospital room open, I darted in, collapsing to my knees beside his bed as I started to bawl, taking his cold hands into mine.

"What happened to him?" I spoke through sobs, not caring who was around to see me break down, especially in such an overdramatic state.

"I assume you're Miss Powell?" The nurse ignored my perfectly reasonable question just for me to identify myself.

"It says so on my name tag," I handed her a bit of attitude, as it was obvious, seeing how not only was I the first and only person to be contacted on the behalf of Stu's work injury, but it was indeed stated on the sticker clutched onto my blouse, that I am Alexia Powell. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" I collected myself, getting up and dusting my pants before bringing my hands up to wipe away stray tears, no matter how much they refused to stay at bay.

"We should wait for the doctor to enter and tell you himself." Her eyes skimmed my body vertically as if she was silently evaluating me, offering no help whatsoever as she waltzed out of the room, leaving me alone with an unconscious Stu and my gaping mouth.

Baffled at how I was handled with, I grabbed the landline positioned on the bedside table, punching in Stuart's mum's work number.

"You're speaking to Rachel Pot." The demure voice answered after a few rings, evident that she was exhausted by the heavy breathing included.

"Rachel," Stu's mum preferred that I referred to her on a first name basis, even though I always found her more as a mother figure to me than someone who I could go around and enunciate their government name like that. "Stuart's job called me a while ago, he's been in a terrible accident and had to-"

"He what?!" She cut me off, fright in her tone as she began to hyperventilate.

"Rachel, you have every right to be in a panic right now, but I'm in the room with him, so please remain calm." I tried my best to ease her, irony filling the room as I was struggling to compose myself.

"You're right," I could hear her shuddering through the line, my heart withering at how she was aspiring to remain sane when she was receiving such grim news. "W-What h-ha-happened?"

"I haven't been told, I'm still wondering myself." I ran my hand through my hair, releasing a long sigh as Rachel bursted into tears.

"I-I have to call Stuart's father to pick me up from work, I-I'll try to be there as soon as possible, p-please stay by his side." Rachel requested.

"Of course." I nodded even though she couldn't see me, hanging up.

As if on cue, a doctor walked in, clipboard in hand, glancing over at Stuart, then to me, the only source of sound emitting coming from the EKG.

"Is someone around here finally gonna tell me what in the hell is going on?" I griped, on the verge of throwing a mini temper tantrum in the middle of the room.

"There's no easy way to say this, Miss Powell," he started off, removing his spectacles, letting them hang off his neck from the security strap. "Your friend is in a comatose."

"Wow, you don't beat around the bush..." I trailed off, tears betraying my eyes once again as I strived to suppress them, not needing to shed more than I already have, especially when Stu's parents were going to appear anytime now, and I wouldn't want my sorrow to stress them further. "Is his eye at least all right? I noticed it was-"

"From what I was told, a car happened to struck Mister Pot here straight in his eye," he stated almost monotonously, as if he's heard this escapade multiple times and has become immune to it. "Although the situation and outcome is - no doubt about it - utterly unfortunate, Mister Pot is lucky to still somehow be alive."

"You call being in a coma alive?" I snarled my lip, not sure what this man was on. "Some people never even wake up from them!" At this point I gave the green-light for my eyes to do their thing.

"Usually, our standard procedure is to give our patient's friends and family a sliver of doubt that not everything will go accordingly, but at the expense of what's going on right in front of us, I have faith that Mister Pot will come through." He spoke completely out of context, making it seem as if he was reading off the flipping papers pinned onto his clipboard, paying absolutely no mind to my weeping.

"Oh my-" my eyes widened at what I was perceiving. "You're not supposed to say stuff like that! You do know if this situation manages to get worse from here, I can report you out of grief and you could lose your job."

"Aw, you wouldn't really do that, would you?" He pouted, eerily relaxed about all of this.

"No, but-"

"Well, then as I said before, I have faith that your friend will come through." He reiterated his phrase, exiting the room and leaving my mouth gaping once again.

I occupied myself while waiting for Stu's mum by assisting my tear blotched face subdue pronto, shuffling and organizing small objects around the room, such as adjusting Stu's pillow and surfing through the programmes on the telly, my horrible habit of nail biting coming back. I found a pack of alcohol wipes in the bathroom, taking them and coating each finger with one, shortly forgetting I had done so and continuously biting them. Within no time I had learned my lesson, and the habit ceased by the time Rachel and David got here.

"Oh, my baby!" Rachel cried, approaching the unconscious body with open arms as her husband stood next to me in awe, doing nothing other than witnessing the poor mama pity her only child. "What happened to you?"

"I'll give you guys some time alone with-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel swatted the air. "We're grateful that you dropped everything you were doing to stay by Stuart's side."

"I would like to know what exactly happened to my son, though." David's brows furrowed.

I nodded, letting the couple get comfortable in their seats as I told them the same story I was told, leaving out the part that the doctor believes faith will bring Stuart back to his previous health. To give false hope would be cruel.

Stuart's doctor came back after a while, claiming to have more news to report to us, though he didn't let us know from the get-go whether they were good or bad.

"It seems as if the impact of the car has caused a collection of blood inside the anterior chamber of his eye." He said, to which I understood every part but two words of that sentence.

"So, you're saying my son may have hyphema?" Rachel inhaled rather sharply, David resting his hand on top of hers as he gently squeezed it.

"Not may," the doctor pointed his finger up. "He does have it." He corrected, as if that'd make it any better.

"But it is curable or whatever, right?" I butted in, looking for any type of silver lining in this tragedy.

"Mm," he hesitated. "Yeah."

"What was that?" I knitted my brows, crossing my arms across my chest.

"What was what?" He played dumb.

"You hesitated." I narrowed my eyes.

"More news," he unexpectedly changed the topic. "The culprit responsible for your son's injury has been apprehended."

"That's great!" David's eyes gleamed, shooting from his seat and lifting his wife up. "Honey, our son will have justice!"

"But," he cut our little celebration way too short if you ask me, frowns replacing our smiles once more.

"But what?" I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"Stuart will be under the care of the culprit for approximately three and a half years."

 


	2. Part 02

┏━━━━━━━━━┓  
1 Year Forward   
┗━━━━━━━━━┛

Today marked the one year anniversary since my best friend was sent into a comatose state. Absolutely nothing could be done to convince the corrupt judicial system to not assign the cause of his coma as his caretaker, which made no sense to me, nor Stuart's parents. Usually someone who commits such a horrendous crime would be sentenced to a couple years - maybe even life - in prison, but of course, we just so happened to be all out of luck.

Though this milestone wasn't exactly something to be proudly commemorated, I was still going to pay Stu a little visit, stopping by shoppes to buy some much needed balloons and flowers for the vibrant maned individual.

Cruising down the motorway, I couldn't help but to fall into a deep despair as last week's conversation ricocheted in my head. Stu's bills were becoming too much of a burden for his middle class working parents to afford for the past months, though Rachel was still holding onto a sliver of hope, not yet wanting to pull the plug on her son in case he was to eventually wake up. Of course, I had recently decided to pitch in on assisting with their debts, weighing me down with them as well.

Pulling into the car park, I stepped out with balloons in clutch, ready for my weekly sign in. No matter how routinely I've been visiting the hospital, the staff still required me to show them my ID.

Taking the lift to the fourth floor, I gently hummed along with the elevator music, prepared to spend yet another day with Stu. The ding signified that I had reached my level, the doors spreading open for me to exit.

I gained a few greetings from the staff, as I had grown to be a VIP visitor considering the amount of time I spent in the ward. Entering the room, the whole area was vacant, Stu's bed left unkempt when it was normally tidy. I didn't think much of it, reckoning the nurse must've been in a hurry to take him out for his occasional blanket bath, setting down the gifts and flipping on the telly.

Five minutes had passed when a nurse finally arrived, a sterile bedpan in her hands.

"Where's Mister Pot?" She asked, putting the bedpan aside and commencing to make the bed.

"He's with you, isn't he?" I chuckled, assuming she was playing some kind of a trick on me.

"No...?" She ceased her task, frantically searching throughout the room as if he would be submerged somewhere under the seat cushions. "I was scheduled to change his pan right now."

"Well, if he's not here, where could he be?" I rose from my seat, panic beginning to circulate my veins.

"M-Maybe another nurse took him to the bath?" She suggested, thinking that effortless idea would be enough to ease our frenzied minds.

"You're the only nurse assigned to him! What do you mean "another nurse"?" I moved on from panicked to full on rage, my anxiety causing a change in my voice as I was now shouting.

"I don't know!" She cried at my impulsive outburst, running out of the room, leaving me to deal with the dilemma by myself.

I followed suit to let her know that I would not be held responsible for losing someone who was meant to be under her surveillance, though the minute I stepped out I had already lost her. Nearing the front desk that belonged to the fourth floor, I planned to ask the receptionist on duty if she had by chance seen where Stuart's body could have possibly gone, as she should be alert about who enters and leaves this tier.

"Excuse me, did Stuart Pot leave his room anytime today?" I attempted to remain tranquil, taking in a few breathing techniques to get my heart pressure back to 120/88 while the receptionist uninterruptedly crushed her Walkers in order to sprinkle them into her turkey sub.

"Who?" She tilted her head, pouring the crisps onto the elongated sandwich.

"Blue hair, comatose boy." I simply described him as it couldn't be that challenging to spot him amongst other patients.

"Oh, yeah." She nodded, unintentionally avoiding eye contacting with me as she reattached the top loaf of bread, picking it up and taking a bite from it.

"Can you tell me where he's went?" I ran a hand through my hair, becoming more impatient at her negligence, the brunette closing her eyes, jubilant at her success of satisfying her appetite.

"I don't know, some man took him in a wheelchair to the lift an hour ago, haven't seen them since." She shrugged, wiping the stray bit of mayo on the crease of her mouth with her thumb.

"Man?!" I shrieked, having a theory on who this man could be. "What man?"

"Bowl cut, fringe in the front." She was vague with the details, yet I knew exactly who she was talking about.

"How in the-" I cut myself short from causing a commotion. "Why would you just let him walk out like that?"

"I'm a receptionist, not a babysitter," Was her defence, as if it was a great one.

I grumbled, wondering how the fuck these people landed this job. I clenched my fists as I made my way to the lift, needing to alert Stu's parents as soon as possible through the main desk's telephone.

Despite me not being culpable for the hospital's actions, I felt entirely responsible for the disappearance of my best friend. Maybe if I had woke up earlier and rushed to see him, he'd still be secure here, resting where he should be.

"May I use the phone to make a call?" I tried my best to sound unfazed for the receptionist, my will for contacting Rachel growing stronger.

"Go ahead." She gestured towards the accessible telephone, letting me use it.

Dialing the number, my insides became overwrought as I anticipated her answer. Everything was silent at the moment, only the sound of my heart thumping and blood coursing audible, until a bundle of shouting commenced, startling me as I fumbled to catch the phone before it fell onto the floor.

"Get him to the casualty, stat!" I turned around to see a team of medics rushing a stretcher, a strip of blue blurred within the mix.

"Why can't I see anyfink?" The ever so missed voice brought chills up and down my spine, having been a little more than over a year since I've last heard it.

"Stu?!" I bolted to where the now conscious man laid, following the crew into the lift.

"Ale?" He whipped his head back and forth, looking for where my voice was coming from.

"To your left." I helped him locate me, to which he faced me, revealing his now two giant pooled eyes.

I froze, feeling my mouth drop open as I fixated my gaze on where his blue right eye should have been. I already had the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to restore his whole left eye, but I was expecting to be able to peer into at least one of his deep sea iris for the past year.

"What the fuck happened to him this time?!" I screeched, stomach beginning to fall ill as memories that occurred exactly one year ago today resurfaced, hot bile creeping back up my oesophagus.

"Ma'am, please remain calm." One of the medics ordered, noticing how the sight of blood has made me repulsed, leaving me on edge.

"Remain calm?!" I resisted the urge to regurgitate. "I haven't been calm since 1997!"

"Ale, it is 1997." Stu intervened, oblivious to the fact that he's been stuck in a coma for the past year.

"Um, actually..." I trailed off, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.

"Ma'am," the medic called for me as the lift dinged. "You're going to have to sit in the waiting room until everything is clear."

"Is my eyes okay?" Stu looked back and forth at us, not aware of his face's current condition.

"How many fingers am I holding?" Another medic held up two gloved fingers to his face, letting Stu strain his eyes as he tried to guess the correct number.

"Four!"

"Wrong!" He made a buzzer noise as if we were all in an episode of Family Feud.

"Scott, just lead the lady to the waiting room, please?" Whom I assumed was the head of the team ordered, most likely to get the seemingly obnoxious "Scott" away, to which he complied.

"Let's go, buttercup." He snapped his fingers in my face as if I was a dog, everyone else waiting for our departure so that they can unload.

"But, I can't be away from-"

"Yes you can, be patient." He cut me off, leading me to the seating area, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me to sit on the frigid seat. "Would you like me to bring you something to drink?"

"I'd like a phone."  I propped my elbow up on the armrest, resting my chin on the palm of my hand.

"I don't think you can drink that..." He looked at me questioningly.

"No, it's to call my friend's parents." I briefly explained, needing to get to a telephone quick so that Rachel and David could be here hopefully by the time Stu is out.

Scott nodded, walking away to God knows where in order to locate the closest phone for me. I peered out the window for the meantime, thinking to myself. Sure, I've dreamt of today for the past 365 ones, but having it finally occur as sudden as now only confused me, as I was left with unanswered questions, and more were piling in.

"Here, I had to wrestle a handicap for this." Scott came back, tossing me a Nokia as I caught it, giving him a blank stare.

"Was that supposed to be comical?" I rolled my eyes, punching in the digits to Rachel's number.

"I was trying to lighten your mood." He shrugged, not getting the idea that I wanted to be left alone.

Ignoring his idiotic reasoning to make such a sensitive topic in this type of workplace, I brought the phone up to my ear, listening as I waited for the ringing to cease.

"Who keeps calling me through these unknown numbers!" Rachel flared, clearly fatigued.

"Hey, it's Alexia." I spoke, her tone changing for the better at the mention of my name.

"Lexi, I'm so sorry!" She began to apologise, though I didn't feel the need that she had to, with everything that's been going on lately. "I've been a nervous wreck for the past week, what with working all these extra graveyard shifts and whatnot."

"No need to excuse yourself, everything's okay." I reassured her, knowing it wasn't easy having to pick up longer hours at work to help support bills for your hospitalised son.

"So, you're with Stuart at this time... Right?" Her voice came out hushed, appearing distressed, especially on an anniversary like this.

"Yes," I answered, figuring out how I would deliver the message to her. "And this time he's awake."

The only sound emitting from the other line was a gasp that then converted into a squeal, lifting my heart as I haven't heard the sweet nurse in such high spirits for more than a while.

"My son's awake!" She yelled, most likely informing the audience of the room she was in, sobs evident throughout her phrase.

"I'm gonna go get a coffee." Scott had lightly tapped my shoulder, whispering to me as he didn't want to ruin this moment.

"I have to call David and tell him! I'll definitely be there in a jiffy, I have to know everything!" She hadn't stopped to take a breath, the adrenaline she's needed for so long restocking.

"Do what you have to do, I'll see you soon." I chuckled with delight, hanging up on the ecstatic lady.

Carrying the mobile phone between the both of my hands, I turned around, only to come face to face with the one thing that could make my grin diminish in less than a second.

"Ah, the workers 'ere sure are quick on their feet, aren't they?" The alcohol reeking satanist swiftly joined me by my side, snaking his arm around my shoulders as he gave it a tight squeeze, one that made it feel like we've been friends since grade school.

"Don't touch me!" I freaked, releasing myself from his slimy grasp. "What were you doing with Stuart's body?"

"Chill out, luv," I snarled at the accustomed alias he gave me, one that I never agreed to obtain. "It was just a lil joyride, though the fucker cost me a windscreen."

"What in the bloody hell does that mean?" His lingo didn't make speaking to him any easier, only agitating me further as I was on the brink of smashing my fist against his face and knocking down those candy corn pieces he calls teeth.

"Your dear friend flew out me windscreen!" He threw his hands in the air, acting as if it was such an inconvenience that a being who at the time had no absolute control over their body, just managed to somehow without explanation crash into glass.

"Quit shitting me, I'm sure if he was in a car accident he wouldn't have magically woken up." I stated, rubbing off a bit pessimistic, but it was hard to believe anything this seemingly decaying being alleged.

"See, tha's the beauty of it all," his black and red eyes gleamed, as if flying through shards of glass was really euphoric. "The blow struck 'im so 'ard, woke the fool up! 'Ad 'im sittin' upright like he was at a tea party."

"So he was in a car accident, all because of you?" I growled, grabbing a fistful of his collar and bringing his pitiful face close down to mine.

The contentment on his face developed into a scowl, his hands clasping over mine as he yanked them off him.

"Don't ever put your grimy hands on me again, ya got that?!" He spat, droplets of his saliva plopping on my cheeks as I grimaced at the impact. His grip on my wrists didn't loosen, feeling as if my circulation would be cut off in a matter of two seconds.

I didn't answer him, taking back my hands and stretching my sleeves to substitute them as a towel, wiping my face clean.

"Why are you here?" I huffed, surprised he hadn't fled the scene the minute Stu supposedly crashed.

"Hey, kinda need my mobile back." Scott came back with a cup of coffee in possession, pointing with his free hand at the device I had hostage.

"Here, and thanks." I gave it back to him before he went on about his daily schedule of "saving lives", or what looked more like displeasing his colleagues.

"Why are the lot 'ere ugly? You'd think with all the talk 'bout hospitability they'd at least 'ave the decency to hire good lookin' folk." Murdoc ranted, my eye involuntarily twitching as he rambled on and on, like if he was one to talk about physical appearances.

"Hospitality," was all I could muster without exploding on him.

"Huh?" His brows furrowed behind his fringe, not getting my answer to his question.

"You said "hospitability", it's "hospitality"." I stated rather nonchalant, not entirely up to start a lesson on grammatical errors.

"You say tomato, I say tomahto, in the end life screws all of us up the arse." He butchered one of the most popular phrases into a version of his own, sounding idiotic at his use as it had nothing to do with the quote.

"I'm going to the restroom." I excused myself, not wanting to be near this buffoon any longer.

"Ah, is that an invite?" He wiggled his eyebrows as an attempt to flirt, which I took into disgust.

"Sod off," I sneered, walking away.

Strutting down the corridor, I ran straight into Rachel, whose eyes were bloodshot from all the overwhelming emotions she had in her.

"Lexi!" She threw her arms around me, David following behind her. "Is it true? Is my boy really awake?"

"I wouldn't lie about something like that." I shook my head, letting her know that this was legit.

"Well, where's our son at?" David was eager to reunite with his only child.

"He's been taken into casualty, they told me to stay in the waiting room until further notice." I informed the concerned parents.

"Casualty?!" Rachel slapped her hand across her forehead. "Did he fall on his head or something? Are his migraines becoming too-"

"Let's just say his eye matches the other one now." I attempted to pacify her, though her and her husband became overly enthusiastic.

"So, the right one looks like the left one?" Rachel and David beamed, a pang of guilt jabbing me straight in the heart as I had raised their hopes higher than I originally expected to.

"Something like that...?" I found it too late to explain to them the circumstance correctly, what with all their optimistic bubble they were sitting in, and I wasn't going to be the one to pop it. I was in that position for way too long, as I had spent nearly my whole free time watching over Stuart, and I was always the one sent out to deliver worrisome news to the couple, such as all the times Stu's vomited, twitched, and sighed, only for all of those signs to be dismissed as a false alarm later on.

"Well, let's go sit down and wait to see our son." David took his wife in his arms, leading us away.

"Uh, I'm getting hungry though!" I jumped in front of them, forbidding them from taking another step. "How 'bout you say we go down to the café? My treat." I was creating a diversion, knowing how much it pained them when Murdoc was anywhere near their presence.

"But what if he's cleared while we're downstairs?" Rachel was paranoid, taking a step forward.

"I am pretty famished, Rach," David sided with me, rubbing his stomach with his hand in a circular motion. "And you haven't ate since before you went off to work last night, you need to fill yourself up."

"I'm not hungry," she refused, becoming stubborn as she released his hold on her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll stay while you two go, just in case Stuart wants to see us."

"There's no way we're gonna win her over, Lexi. Let's go 'fore they run out of those assorted fruit cups we love so much." David placed his hand on my upper back, giving up on his wife.

"Yeah, you know, suddenly my appetite's gone missing," I skedaddled over to Rachel. If I couldn't persuade her into joining lunch with us, then I'll at least be there when she faces the culprit who vegetablised her son for a damn year.

"I take it that you're no longer goin' to pay for my meal, then?" David scratched the back of his head, a bit dismayed.

"Sorry, bud." I shook my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Murdoc didn't have such a huge role in this part, but don't worry, he will next time (;


	3. Part 03

__"Lexi, why's he here?" Rachel kept her voice to a hushed whisper, gesturing over to the olive skinned individual slumped in a seat, head leaning on the extremity of the backrest as he let out continuous snores that resonated the whole room. "Did you tell him about Stuart, too?"

"Of course not," my lip snarled, the idea of me contacting the ex-con didn't even come to my mind. "Stu was under Niccal's supervision at the time he woke up." I was fastidious with my wording, not wanting to trouble the weary mother by stretching out the whole truth.

"So, Stuart was already conscious when you saw him?" She turned to meet my eyes with hers, the indigo tint to her irises striking as if they knew the actuality, cornering me like a child whose mummy was forcing them to take their vitamins. Guilt nearly got the best of me, though I powered through it, keeping up with my fabrication.

"Yeah... but he still thinks we're living in 1997." I rubbed the nape of my neck, exerting an awkward chuckle as an attempt to lighten the fact that the Tusspot's worst nightmare was knocked out on a chair only inches away from them.

"It's only normal for him to believe that, what with him being in an coma for so long." Her voice remained soft, definitely not interested in waking up the slumbering alcoholic. "Do you think we can sit somewhere else?" She was trying to avoid him at all costs for as long as she could pull it off.

I nodded, leading her to the other side of the waiting room, separated from where Murdoc was seated due to the clerk's desk wedged between the two.

"How long do you think it'll be before we get to see Stuart?" Rachel questioned, fiddling with the strap of her handbag.

"I was never given an estimate of how long it'd take, but personally, I guess it'll be half a day, considering the fact that they're focusing on the condition of his eye." I reminded her.

"Oh, his eyes," she whimpered, biting down on the nail of her thumb. "I've been relying on photographs all this time, making sure I never forgot the glint to them," the ends of her mouth stretched into a small smile, the deep parenthesis denting into her cheeks, a physical feature of hers that comes and goes due to her boundless life of happiness. "He has his late grandfather's eyes. I cherish them probably a little too much, but it's the only thing I have that reminds me of my father."

And here I sat, thinking it wasn't possible for me to feel anymore guilt than I've already experienced. My heart weighed down, probably on it's path to falling out my arse.

"Rachel, um..." I pierced my gaze down to my intertwined fingers, biting my lower lip, contemplating on coming forward with nothing but the truth. "When I mentioned how both of his eyes are similar, I meant his right one is now a duplicate of his left."

I peered up to see how her expression altered, her once apparent grin now drooping to an upside-down crescent. The agony I was so desperate and selfishly aiming to spare myself from crept its way back into my system, swallowing it all in one gulp.

"B-but," tears welled into her eyes, forming at the ducts as they began to spill. "How?"

"Murdoc told me-"

"It's Murdoc's fault?" She cut me short, glossy eyes narrowing.

"He took Stuart out for a drive I-I guess, and they got into a car accident." I twiddled my thumbs, stomach gurgling with anxiety at how she'll take the news, finding out I had been hiding such extensive information from her.

"So, you just stood watch as Stuart was being illegally checked out of the hospital?" She cocked her head, brows denting way too far for comfort as I could tell she was now cross with me.

"I would never-" I cut myself off. Nothing I say could save her from her anger, sorrow- whatever she was feeling, but I was not about to be partially blamed for what happened to Stu's good eye. "When I arrived Stuart wasn't in his room."

She exhaled, bringing her hands to massage her temples, clear that she had a bombardment of questions though the stress of it all prevented her from properly speaking out on the issue.

"I need some water," she croaked. "And a doctor."

"I'll get you a cup." I quickly stroked her back, hoisting myself up from the seat to fetch her a drink.

Trying to produce the least amount of sound as possible through the heel of my flats smacking against the linoleum to avoid waking Murdoc, I witnessed a fly enter his gaping mouth, triggering his uvula as he sputtered and wheezed himself conscious.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer, luv." The last syllable rolled off his prolonged python-like tongue, despite the fact an insect just attacked him not even a minute ago.

Rolling my eyes at his obnoxiousness, I hoped that would be the only thing he had to say to me, though of course I was wrong.

"Aye, don't ignore me," he planted both hands onto the armrests, using them to support him while getting up.

"Why are you here?" I rehashed what I had asked him a half hour ago. I was no doubt about it expecting a narcissistic answer, such as "I've yet to complete my damned 10 hours this week," though I had also expected him to flee the crime scene right after the car wreck. Could I have perchance underestimated the supposed self-centered Murdoc Niccals?

"Lemme tell you this," he held a forefinger in the air, acting as if he was going to recite a folktale that's been passed around for ages. "When Face-Ache stood up, what an image; tall, pretty, blue spiky hair - no eyeballs, I knew that he 'ad to be the frontman." No, he was definitely still the same Murdoc I thought he was.

"Frontman?" I repeated him, having no clue as to what he was babbling on about.

"I never told you this, but the reason I 'ad crashed through the window that day was to form a band," he stated, then it all made sense to me why he was so fixated on stealing those keyboards. "Don't go 'round telling your friends - if you even 'ave any other than Stuart, that is. My idea is copyrighted, I will tamper with the brakes in your car."

"Gee, and here I thought I'd ram my car into Sound Unlimited and take a couple guitars myself." I huffed, meaning to rub off as sarcastic while the reeked-of-booze man shot me a glare. "So after taking away a whole year of my friend's life, along with two of his eyeballs, you believe Stuart's just gonna drop everything and start a band with you?"

"'Ell yeah! I was the one who woke 'im from his coma, right?" He sounded like a spoilt brat asking mummy for another pony, and I was not about to feed into him.

"Stuart's smart enough to know better than to associate with you," or at least, I hoped so. He may be my best friend, but he was an absentminded one at that. "You've cost a sufficient amount of trouble here, after today your services will no longer be needed."

"Might as well give 'im a wank if you're gonna be on his dick, why don't you?" He chortled, the smell of cheap brandy emitting from his putrid mouth, burning my nostrils as I covered them with my sleeve.

"You're revolting." I grimaced, pushing past him to get that drink, not wanting to leave Rachel alone any longer.

"If not 'im, how 'bout me?" He cackled, though his laughter didn't dissuade me into thinking he wasn't joking.

Paying no more mind to the degenerate, I exited the seating area, focused on getting Rachel the refreshment.

Grabbing a cup and filling it up from the water cooler, I became mesmerised as the air bubbles floated to the top of the gallon while the water streamed. Pulled into a trance, I began to wonder how Stuart would adjust to life, now being a year behind society as if it wasn't bad enough that he was mentally deficient and constantly struggling with keeping up on small tabs, such as the date of my birthday.

It didn't matter to me what hindrance life would throw at Stuart; as his only friend I would still be by his side to push them out of the way, even if the toxic satanist with the sideburns was persistent in-

My thoughts were interrupted by the ice cold water overflowing from the foamed cup, my hand jolting back as a reaction of the piercing liquid coming into contact.

Pouring out some of the contents to guarantee nothing else would spill, I headed back to the waiting room, hoping Rachel wasn't being antagonised by Murdoc.

"Ah, back so soon?" I groaned, on the verge of throwing a hissy-fit. Why couldn't this man go find a life somewhere else? "Just couldn't resist me, could ya?"

"Don't you have some nurses to bother? Maybe moon the elders with Alzheimers?" I gave out a few schemes he'd most likely partake in at a hospital, wanting nothing more than to have him as far as possible from me.

"Has someone been fantasising 'bout my arse?" His tongue brushed over his lips at an attempt to seem "sexy", which did nothing other than repulse me.

Just a few more steps and you'll be out of his grasp.

"Nothing to be shy 'bout, yours is always on my mind." A firm smack of the hand was met with my rump, water spilling onto the surface in result to my body jerking upwards from pain and shock, leaving me no choice but to pivot to my assaulter and deliver him the most destructive blow I've ever given.

Swiveling on my heel, it was too late for me when David bolted towards us, grappling the pervert's shoulder to force him to face him, hurling his closed fist, clashing with his victim's nose.

A family had just walked into the scene, mother covering her once innocent children's eyes as the receptionist tried her best to run around her desk in heels to attend the fallen assailant, Rachel following behind to see what was with the commotion coming from the other side of the waiting room.

"David, I could've handled that." I whined, David shaking his hand from the ache the blow brought with it.

"I know, but it was also for me." He stated.

Suddenly I heard a screech emit from behind me, a pair of hands thrusting me forward before I had the chance to find out where the noise was coming from, sending me sailing onto Murdoc's back as he had just recovered from his collapse.

"Get. Off." Murdoc growled as I laid sprawled on his back.

Complying with him, the former receptionist bursted out in apologies to the both of us, claiming it was the water I had spilled moments ago to be the issue.

"You daft cow!" Murdoc proceeded to insult the ill-fated woman, having to subject all of his fury built up from the past three minutes. "What in the bloody 'ell were you thinking?! Why don't you learn how to fucking walk AROUND a pile of water, you dense minger!"

"Ignore him and just go call security to escort him." I nudged the now sobbing woman, nodding as she uttered incoherency. The family of four was now heading back out of the room, binding their kids' ears with their hands as if that'd be thick enough to barricade the powerful trail of blaspheme spouting from his mouth.

"Piss off and call 'em, then! See what they can do!" He ran past the double doors to the ICU, freaking the receptionist to a further degree.

"David, I think he's going to do something to Stuart!" Rachel screamed, clutching onto her husband's polo.

"Lexi, stay here with Rachel, I'll be right back." David passed his wife onto me in order to chase after Murdoc, leaving me with a hysteric Rachel.

"Rachel, everything's gonna be fine," I wasn't sure if that was true, wrapping my arms around her torso and letting her stain the neckline of my shirt with her tears, rubbing her back as she hiccuped.

"I-I'll never be able to live with myself if he does something to my son again!" She wailed, my stomach dipping at her statement.

"Hey, don't say that," I pulled her off of me, staring dead straight into her eyes. "Security is on their way, that vile pillock won't lay another hand on your son." I tried to assure her, though even I knew there was only so much security could do.

Approximately twenty minutes had gone by since the security spoke to us and went off on their search for the satanist-gone-wild, Rachel now soundly snoring by my side as her head depended on my shoulder as a headrest.

"Dad, I'm ol' enuff ta make my own decisions, don't cha fink?" The thick Cockney accent made it clear when it came to distinguishing whose voice belonged to who, Stuart waltzing into the room through the doors of the ICU ward.

"Why don't you tell your mom what you think, and we'll see how that goes." Agitation was manifested in David's tone, gesturing towards the sleeping lady drooling on my apparel.

Behind David and Stuart was security escorting Murdoc, who released a string of profanities mashed together, possibly breaking the world record of amount of diverse curse words in one sitting.

"Fine, I will." Stu crossed his arms, marching over to his sleeping mother.

"It's your first time seeing your father after a year, and you're already arguing with him?" I shook my head in disbelief, not fully understanding how Stuart could at times take his present parents for granted.

"A year?" Stu reiterated while I bit the inside of my cheek, mentally quoting Murdoc's last sentence. "I saw my dad just before goin' off to work today, ain't that right, Dad?" The naïve child looked up at his father, despite having two huge dents on his upper face.

"Yeah, a year ago today." David pursed his lips, Rachel stirring around in her sleep before waking up.

"What's going on?" Her eyes were still shut closed as she extended her arms to stretch, extricating a deep yawn before opening her eyes.

"'Ey, Mum..." Stu ineptly waved to his mother, fearing her reaction to seeing him for what seems to be a year later.

"Stuart!" She gasped, shooting up from her seat, making a beeline for him, engulfing her estranged son into her arms. It didn't take long for the bawling to commence, Stu's hospital gown already soaked in his birth-giver's tears.

"I hate to cut our reunion short, but I believe your son has something he would wish to ask of you." David stepped between the two, Rachel wiping her tears away with her sleeve in preparation for Stuart's question.

"What is it?" She persuaded Stu into asking her whatever it was he needed to get out.

"Can I start a band with Murdoc?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another somewhat decent update! Now is when we'll start progressing into the story (or I hope so). Don't forget to leave kudos and comments, as I always appreciate what you guys have to say. (:


	4. Part 04

"Look what you did to your mother, she's paled!" David scolded the whimpering Stuart, Rachel's facial features twitching as her hands trembled, mumbling words not even her husband could make out.

"How could you even consider keeping in touch with him after he relentlessly ruined your eyesight and took you away from us for a full year?!" I resisted the urge to smack the bluenette upside the head, but if it wasn't for him being prone to migraines and didn't just come out from the ICU, then I would've literally knocked some sense into that boy.

"Why don't you guys fink 'bout it this way?" Stu started up, though I didn't want to hear any of it, I still listened. "If it wasn't fo' 'im taking me out on that joyride, I simply wouldn't be awake righ' now!"

"If it wasn't for him crashing through your damn store's window, you wouldn't have been in a coma in the first place!" I shouted at him, piercing my nails into the palms of my hands, keeping my patience for the sake of his wellbeing.

"You're not joining anything with that pillock, and that's final." David pointed a stern finger straight at Stu, as if he was training a dog to sit, his other hand clutching his wife by her waist in order to get her to stand still.

"I'm ni'teen- no, wait," Stu stopped himself short, mumbling under his breath as he counted his fingers. "I'm twen'y years ol', I'm prac'ally an adult now."

"Stuart, if I hear from anyone that you've formed a band with that devil worshipper, I don't want you anywhere near your mother and I." David threatened, figuring that would be enough to dissuade Stuart into joining Murdoc's nonexistent posse.

Though it was difficult to tell with his pitched black eyes, they indeed widened.

He's bluffing, I thought, knowing David wouldn't disown his son over an issue like this, even though Stuart had to be completely mad to even contemplate being tied with Murdoc for god knows how long.

"The name's 2D, not Stuart." Stu had nothing left to say, other than informing us of his new identity.

"The fuck does that mean?" David spat, Rachel's wails be comings boisterous. "Two-dimensional?"

"Two-Dents, cause of the ones in ma head. Murdoc gave it to me 'fore you barged in." Stu shrugged, indifferent to the alias that sounded a bit discourteous.

"I don't give a fuck what he wants to call you, your mother and I blessed you with a real first name when you were born, and that's what we'll call you by." David held onto Rachel tighter, becoming infuriated with his unusually disobedient son.

"Stu, if you want to be in a band then I'll form one with you, if it means never having to fret over what Murdoc may do to you again." I spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to coax him while David had sat Rachel down across the room, leaving to get her a beverage to ease her nerves for the meantime.

"I don't wanna be in a band wiff you, I want Murdoc." He staggered back, offending me in the process. He'd rather choose that lowlife alcohol drenched scum over me?

"And what's so great about him that you don't want me?" I raised a brow, placing my hands on my hips, awaiting the awful truth.

"He's serious 'bout music, you're not." He ripped the bandage right off my arm, not caring about the small hairs being yanked from the follicles.

"So all those hours I spent weekly at the store learning to play guitar, it didn't mean anything?" I rested my arms at my side, pondering what his response would be.

"I-It did!" He stammered. "But Murdoc's been in more bands than I can count!"

"You can't count." I defended.

"Exactly!" He threw his hands into the air, signifying that he was done with the topic, confident that he was making an ethical choice.

"What's the real reason for all this, Stu?" I took his hand into mine, boring deep into the bloody void of his eyes, determined to get the truth out of him no matter how disturbing it was for me to be peering at something so gruesome for this long.

He exerted a distressed sigh, blinking as he smacked his lips, "I owe it all to 'im. It's the least I could do af'er he saved me."

I immediately dropped his hand, shaking my dazed trance off, allowing what he admitted to sink in my head.

"Stu, did he tell you that?" I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping up on me. Was Murdoc trying to brainwash Stuart?

"Ya, but he's righ'." Stu was coming off apathetic, not letting what he just stated click into his brain.

"How?!" I shouted, rage consuming the best of me, prepared to lash out on the poor lost soul. "Do you not get it?! He's the cause of all this trauma! Honestly, Stuart, how dense could you possibly fucking be?!"

"Well," he hesitated, rushing to find the right reply in hopes of calming me down. "Sorry fo' havin' two dents in ma head!"

I heaved out a breath, deeming this conversation useless. There was no way around this, Stuart was going to run off with Murdoc no matter what I said.

"Is this what you really want?" I brought my tone down, seating myself on the chair next to us, resting my head on the palm of my hand.

Stu simply nodded, holding his hands together, not even taking another second to think it over. It was hard for me to declare what I had to say next, tears forming at my eyes as I felt a prickling sensation in my nose.

"Then..." I sighed, paining me for caving in. "I'll support you through all of this."

Stu gasped, followed by a ricochet of clapping, rushing to me and pulling me up from my seat, enveloping me into a bear hug, where his lengthy and lanky arms wrapped around me twice.

"But, you still have to keep up with your job at Uncle Norm's." I detached him from our embrace. I wasn't going to let him drop everything for an unprofessional slob such as Murdoc, and there was no way Stu would be getting a free ride from me and his parents. He'd still be accountable for pulling his own weight and assisting in his hospital bills.

"Look what I got!" David's step held a little hop to it, the father of the newly legally blind man hauling in bags of crisps, biscuits, and pop. "I got sent to the wrong level, I never knew they sold fairy cakes here!"

"Did you bring us any?" I asked, referring to the fairy cake.

"...I ate it on the way back." He mumbled, ashamed of what he had done.

"That's fine," I sent a reassuring smile, planning to tell him about my new proposition with Stuart. "I was just speaking with Stu, and I know you're not keen on the idea of him hanging with Murdoc, but-"

"But, I'll still support him either way," David placed the snacks down onto the closest chair by him. "Nothing's gonna change the fact that you're my son, but if that bloke does anything to come between this family, he's gonna have to deal with me."

"Thanks, Pop." David slung his arm around the unofficial band member, slightly jolting him.

"Now go apologise and tell your mother you love her, none of this was easy on her." David nudged Stuart over to Rachel's direction.

My heart warmed at the sight of Stu properly reuniting with his mum as I grabbed a bag of crisps, popping it open.

"Alexia," David enunciated my full name, signifying whatever he had to say next was something to be taken into deep consideration.

I hummed, averting my attention from his nuclear family over to the mechanic.

"You understand Stu way better than us," he began, peering over to his scatterbrained son who kept throwing his crisps in the air, trying to catch it in his mouth. "I know it's a bit too much to ask for, but can you watch over him? Make sure he doesn't stray from reality too far?"

"I'll try my best, but there's only so much I can do before Stu figures he needs to make his own decisions himself," I rubbed my arm up and down, eyes softening at the sight of Rachel finger-combing Stu's cobalt tresses. "No man likes a woman bossing them about, especially when they limit their freedom."

"Don't strain yourself so much, we all know how Stu can get." He agreed, lifting the tab on the top of the soda can up before taking a long swig of his cola.

Rachel and Stu finally joined us, the weary mother carrying her child's neatly folded clothes in her hands for him, ready for his discharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seemed a bit rushed with the dialogue, just tryna finally get the hospital scenes over with as it's been dragged on for 4 chapters already. Next chapter will definitely have a change of scenes, so don't worry! (:


	5. Part 05

A month had passed since Stuart was released from the hospital, and thanks to my persuasive tongue (and blackmailing skills), I got him his job back at Uncle Norm's. Things with Murdoc seemed to be going uncannily well, if you were willing to overlook his little temper tantrums whenever something didn't go his way.

Driving over to meet up with Stu at his job for lunch, I took a sip of my espresso, letting the caffeine effectively course through my system in order to cleanse the groggy feeling of running on five hours of sleep. Not only had I been working the graveyard shift at the most bustling fast-food joint for the past week in order to help pay off with the Tusspots hospital debts and cover part of my brother's rent - his raise had been heavily deducted recently - but I'd constantly have to be strung along by Stuart and Murdoc to insignificant gigs; mostly attended by forty-year old drunken divorced men engrossed in the scent of nicotine and distilled beverages until nearly three a.m. Apparently, babysitting Stu meant having to breastfeed Murdoc as well.

Pulling into the car park of the music shop, I threw the once filled with caramel sweetness foam cup into the garbage, waltzing into Stuart's workplace with a pocket full of cash begging to be spent on Tuesday special sandwiches.

I spotted the flamboyant blue head that you couldn't mistake for anyone else shuffling through the record shelves, the crown of his head facing me as his head was hung down.

"2D!" I had also become adjusted to his new name despite how much I hated it, though it had a sort of nice ring to it that I'd never admit aloud. I rushed over to him so I could properly greet the eyeless man with a hug. "You on your break yet?"

"Jus' got off." His arms doubled around me.

"Great, let's get going before my caffeine high crashes." I released myself from his grasp, grabbing him by his wrist and pulling him along with me, only to be yanked back as he hadn't made any effort to move those long string-bean legs of his. "Um, have you forgotten how to walk?"

"Actually, Ale," his arms retreated, thumbs twiddling with each other. "Murdoc's jus' in the baffroom, he w-was plannin' on takin' me to the new pub over on 8th street."

I cocked my head, eyes narrowing as I was never informed of this earlier. "Why didn't you tell me this before you had me driving through rush hour?"

"W-Well, I- uh..." He raised his hands to the height of his shoulders, shrugging as one of his brows scrunched upwards.

"I could be back at my flat right now, in my bed, catching up on my sleep." I huffed, fishing for my keys deep in my purse. "I'm going home, let me know if you-"

The rambunctious door to the store restroom creaked wide open, revealing none other than the Beatles-on-crack imposter standing under the doorframe, heaving a deep breath as his fingers hung through the holes of his belt loop.

"Ah, our lovely Xia is 'ere!" Murdoc was condescending in every way possible with me, his tone exerting two octaves higher as a tactic to remind me every other day how there was only so much I could do before Stu hands all the reins over to Murdoc, supplying him all the power to take him on a joyride, once again.

"I was just leaving." I held the keys in my palm, turning on my heel to get to my car.

"That's hilarious! I was too, with Face-Ache!" He approached us, slinging his arm around Stuart's shoulders. "We're gonna go check out Last Resort, ya know? Get off a few drinks and get buzzed in time for ya friend to come back to work."

When Murdoc said "buzzed" I knew I had to tag along, needing to monitor Stu's consumption and guarantee that he doesn't end up plastered, especially with an influence such as Murdoc around.

"On second thought, I don't have anything planned in the moment," Murdoc removed his arm from Stu as I spoke. "I'll join you two."

"Who in the fuck invited you?" The ends of his thin lips curved downwards, and at that moment I knew I had crushed whatever plan he had of humiliating a shit-faced Stuart.

"I don't need an invite to go, it's open to the public," I gestured for Stu to come along. "2D's riding with me."

I knew Murdoc didn't hold some kind of personal vendetta against me, as I never really did anything petty enough for him to hate me, though I probably ruined his plans of wanting to embarrass or harm Stu. Whenever I was around, I'd be quick to shoot down whatever malicious intentions were prancing about his head.

"2D, tell me the truth," I shifted the gear stick once we arrived to the pub, parking the car and turning on my side to face him. "Did you even wanna come here, or is he just dragging you along, as usual?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." He avoided my gaze, making the answer pretty self-explanatory.

"I should've known," I rolled my eyes, sure that Murdoc had threatened Stu in some way in order to get him to come. "Look, if you don't wanna be here, I can take us to the McDonald's drive-thru, we'll eat in my car and I'll drop you back off at work in time."

"It's fine, Murdoc would pro'ly choke me if I ditched 'im like that." He stated rather nonchalant, letting me begin to wonder what Murdoc has been doing to Stu when I'm not around.

"Has Murdoc been putting his hands on you?" I clicked my seatbelt off, ready to get down and send that sideburned bloke another blow to the nose if I find out he's been abusing my best friend.

"Let's go in 'fore he grows impatient." He exited the car, opening the front door to the bar while I still hadn't even reached out for my door handle.

Seeing how my question was dodged, I could only assume the worst, fury in my steps as I dashed through the doors, scanning the area for a pair of primary coloured men.

"Murdoc Niccals!" I stormed over to the two seated at the bar, ready to chew his ear off.

"I see you're practising for bed, huh luv?" The ruthless brute ragged as I earned complimentary sniggers from fellow beer aficionados for being the butt of the joke.

"I'd rather crawl into bed with Jack the Ripper and let him purge my intestines with a dull and rusty spoon than ever consider jumping into anything with you." I glared at him, the patrons now "ooh'ing" at my so-called burn, though I wasn't expecting this to be a smackdown.

"Mm~ Kitty got claws, me-ow!" He taunted, only aggravating me further as I nearly forgot what I stomped over here for.

"I'm gonna tell you this one time, and one time only," I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to put my hands on him as it didn't go well the last time I did so. "If I hear that you ever, lay a damn finger on 2D, I will not hesitate to sever your balls and hand them over to Satan himself."

"Satan and I 'appen to be very close mates, I'll 'ave you know." He let out a devious smile, tracing the rim of his empty whiskey shot glass with the tip of his poorly-manicured, dirt infested fingernail.

Most of the men went back to their previous activity, not finding any interest in our little dispute any longer, which I couldn't blame them, I was also wishing I had the chance to smack-dab this must-odoured man, without having to worry about the repercussions.

"Ale, forget it," Stu grasped my elbow, pulling me away from his tormentor.

"Ah, so you've been tattlin' on me to your little trollop, huh?" Murdoc stood from his barstool, approaching his trembling bandmate.

"N-No!" He stammered, holding me out in front of him to use as a barricade between the two. "No tattlin'!"

"Leave 2D out of this, he's done nothing for you to treat him in such a way," I held my arms to my side, knuckles turning white at how hard I was clenching them. "This was all your doing, you manky prat!"

"Why you little-"

"What's with all tha bloody ruckus?" A broad Norwich accent boomed, revealing a somewhat young raven haired woman descending from the stairs pushed to the further corner of the pub.

The closer she got to us, the more recognisable she turned. Those bulging bags that nearly reached her nostrils hanging underneath her hooded eyes still remained intact after being nearly five years since the last time we saw each other, her snaggletooth incisor still protruding, almost overlapping her bottom lip, even though she said she was going to get it fixed at the age of sixteen.

"Alexia Mildred Powell," she added more emphasis to my middle name, knowing how flustered I became when it was mentioned, my cheeks growing hot. "It's no surprise you'd be the cause of it."

"Mildred, huh?" Murdoc's mood did a whole 360, a smirk splaying across his face.

"Shut the fuck up," I said to Murdoc, though it was actually meant for the both of them.

"Maisie?" Stu peered from behind me, startling the woman as she let a hell of a shriek escape her practically nonexistent lips.

"Tha fock 'appened to ya eyes, mate?" She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, staring intently at his void filled eyes.

"Oh, er-"

"Don't worry 'bout it." I cut Stu off, the nappy-headed woman shooting me a scowl.

"Aye, bartender, lemme get another one!" Murdoc called out, getting snug in his seat, expecting some kind of dispute to break out.

Maisie ignored my attitude, proceeding to direct all her attention onto Stu's stature. "I predicted you would become a bit unhinged. Was this an act of violence received from Mildred?" She whispered as if I wasn't two feet in front of them, taking the knowledge of my middle name to her advantage.

"I will punch the living daylights out of you if you don't-"

"Do it and I'll 'ave you and ya friends banned from 'ere." She pointed a threatening finger at me, though she didn't scare me one bit.

"Like I care, you don't even own the place." I scoffed, standing my ground.

"Actually, I do." She quirked a brow, triumph written all over her asymmetrical and prematurely aged face.

"Cut me a discount then, sweet-cheeks." The already tipsy alcoholic lazily winked over to her, causing a gush of giggles that sounded more like pigs squealing to emit from her.

Rolling my eyes at the two, Maisie caught me doing so, seeming like she was about to put me in my place when she opened her mouth, where a dab of her too-dark-for-her-complexion lipstick was coated on her front tooth.

"Is there a problem? Cause if there is, we can settle this right 'ere, right now." She rolled her sleeves up, becoming extremely immature in this scenario, especially when she's the owner of the venue.

"Touch me and I swear to God I'll punch you so hard your tooth will be knocked into place." I proceeded to remove my earrings, seeing as they were hooped.

"Cat fight, mm~" Murdoc purred in my ear, though I was too distracted by the figure waltzing down the stairs to push the horny drunk off of me.

"Maisie, why are you terrorisin' tha guests?" The all too relaxed blond questioned, eyes half-lidded while his hands were stuffed into the front pockets to his jeans.

"Dalton?!" I couldn't mistake the Prince Charming doppelgänger, his eyelids still drooping down like it would five years ago, due to his never-ending need for cannabis; which was also a reason why him and Stu were such great friends back in school. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"But you 'ave," he came up to hug me, pushing his fraternal sister to the side. "I see ya more..."

"Developed?" Stu finished for him, Dalton's reaction all the similar to that of his sister's.

"Ha boobs make ha look unproportionate," I heard Maisie mutter, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she headed for the stairs.

"Mate, where in tha fock are ya eyes?" Dalton stood astonished, his heavy lids now wide opened.

"Somewhere pushed back in there," Stu shrugged, thinking absolutely nothing of it.

"But, how?" Dalton raised his hand, his index finger stretched out as he tried to stick it in through his socket, though Stu swatted his hand away before coming into contact.

"This sodding-"

"Car accident, 'alf my fault, 'alf his," Murdoc wiggled his brows, cutting me off. "Pretty awesome, eh?"

"Who's you?" Dalton cocked his head, full of curiosity.

"Murdoc Niccals," he stated proudly, climbing off the barstool and puffing his chest out. "Alexia's lover."

I choked on particularly nothing, eyes widening as he spoke the most disgusting lie that could be told.

"Oh, you two date?" A puzzled expression met Dalton's face, pointing back and forth between Murdoc and I. "I always expected somethin' to bloom 'tween you and Stu-Pot 'ere."

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that you actually believe I'm dating this pathetic sod, or that you thought anything would ever sprout with 2D and me." I snarled my lip.

"Hey!" Murdoc and 2D stood offended, though I couldn't care less.

"2D?" Dalton questioned, being his first time hearing of Stu's new alias.

"Ma new name. Stands for Two Dents, like the ones in me head." Stu gestured to his face, briefly explaining to the pothead the history of his name.

"Ya, you're still Stu-Pot to me," Dalton shook his head, refusing to switch Stu's high school nickname for anything different. "You still in tha smokin' scene, ye?"

"Wouldn't 'ave it any other way, mate." Stu chuckled, earning an eye roll from Murdoc as Dalton requested the bartender to pour some rounds, wanting to toast to rekindling the trio.

"We've got to spark up a spliff, like ol' times!" Dalton said right after slamming his now empty shot glass down.

"You mean righ' now?" If Stu's eyes were intact as of now, they'd be gleaming, as he was now wired and the topic of recreational substances only fired him up more.

"Actually-" I managed to speak in sync with the shaggy haired man.

"There'll be no time to blow each other, you see, Face-Ache 'ere is my bandmate, and we've been really busy with being famous and whatnot." Murdoc stretched out the truth, Dalton's eyes growing narrower as he nodded, mouth ever-so-slightly gaping.

"Famous, eh?" He cocked his head, intrigued for what the heterochromia bloke had to say. "What's ya name?"

"N-Name?" I had never seen Murdoc so flustered.

"Every good band 'as to 'ave a name, ye!" Dalton nudged the man, to which Murdoc did not appreciate the action. "Take me fo' instance, I 'ad a band back in Grade 10, you rememba, right Alex?" Dalton's cerulean pools darted over to my direction, practically depending on my memory to back him up.

"How could she forget? She dated three quarters of the band!" Stu put me on the spot, humiliating me as Murdoc only got a rise out of the newfound information.

"What happened to you not knowing how to count?!" I whisper-hissed at him.

"Three quarters?" Murdoc faked astoundment only to spite me. "You almost 'ad me fooled, always tellin' me how you aren't that type of woman."

"I was fifteen and they were in a band, I-" I cut myself from rambling on. They didn't deserve an explanation for my past choices. "You know what, fuck all of you!"

"Aw, Alex, don't be like that!" Dalton slung his arm around my shoulders, swaying side to side with me in hopes to lighten my mood. Of course, who could stay mad at this blond hair blue eyed beau?

"Fine," I giggled, blowing a strand of my fallen hair away from my face.

"So, Stu-Pot!" Dalton shared his attention with the lanky man. "What's ya position?"

"I-"

"Singer," Murdoc quite defensively answered for him. "Best singer I ever 'eard, though he couldn't be better than me, that's for sure!"

"Lead singer, or back-up vocalist?" Dalton crossed his arms, now speaking with Murdoc.

"Lead."

"Hmm," Dalton thought out loud, and it was all obvious to us what he was thinking: If Murdoc claims to be better than Stu, why isn't he the lead singer himself? "Tell ya what! Next Friday we're 'osting a mixer. Why don't you two open up fo' us right there on tha stage?"

Dalton pointed over to the back of the pub, a wooden platform about three feet high from the ground built next to the staircase. Stu and I "ooh'ed", though the sound emitting from Murdoc's mouth was more of an "ugh".

"They'd love to!" I accepted the offer for them, not wanting this opportunity to drift from their fame-craved palms.

"Great. I'll page ya tha info?" He showed off his state-of-the-art pager, one that would take me five back-to-back graveyard shifts to afford.

"It'll be easier to just ring me through the landline, you know?" I scratched the back of my head, one leg sheepishly overlapping the other, not wanting to let it slip that I still wasn't a proud owner of a beeper.

"Let's get a move on already, 2D's gonna be late for work." Murdoc snapped his fingers as if he ever gave a damn about Stu's punctuality.

"Since when do you care about-"

"Shut the fuck up 'fore I shove something in that filthy hole of yours." Murdoc threatened me, causing Stuart to run out the pub and Dalton to back up.

"We're not done with our talk from earlier." I glared at the olive-skinned cunt who only gifted me his famous eye roll before following after his frontman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh the dialogue for this chapter didn't go as I expected. I had so much more to write for this but I kept straying topic to topic and it was just too much to write to the point where some dialogue was just unnecessary, but if I seriously wrote everything I wanted, this shit would probably have 5k words right now.


	6. Part 06

"Fucking yea HMRC is robbing my damned paychecks." I plopped down onto the sofa next to where my brother sat, currently surfing through the telly.

"You're still earning enough to pitch in on your part for rent, right?" Stefan snatched the cheque from my grasp, holding it up to the light to read how much I earned for the first half of the month.

"Yes," I grunted, taking it back from him. "I'm surprised it's even sufficient for a quarter of Stu's hospital bills." 

"Why are you still helping them pay for that? He's not your son." Stefan switched the TV off, crossing his arms and acting stingy with my money. 

"He's my best friend, and I want to do something nice to the family who took us in when they weren't obligated to," I defended the Tusspots against my brother, not understanding why he had the sudden urge to act bitter. "I doubt you would've preferred living with Aunt Vicky than Stuart."

Rolling his eyes as he sat defeated, I proceeded to remind him of my plans for tonight.

"Are you sure you don't wanna come with?" I looked down at my brother as I was standing, not exactly loving how introverted he's become within the passing months. "It's been so long since we've chilled."

"You don't need a babysitter, go by yourself." He shooed, earning a glare from me as I deemed his snarky comments unnecessary. 

"Well, I probably won't be home until 03:00." I informed in case my pushed back curfew would encourage him to tag along.

"Then make sure you have your keys." His attention never redirected from the screen, distracted by the array of flashing lights dancing around on MTV. 

I huffed, figuring it'd be useless to try and convince my brother to come, knowing him to be stubborn. "I'm gonna go get changed then. There's leftover lasagna in the oven, just heat it to 176° for ten minutes." 

"I'm not a child, I know how to take care of myself." He shut the TV off, getting up as he was now brassed off with me.

"Says the one who forgot to pour water in his Ramen noodles and nearly burned down the flat," I arched a brow, following him as he strutted down the corridor. "You're still in charge of buying a new microwave!"

"Oh, bug off!" He flipped the bird to me without looking back, slamming the door to his bedroom.

I headed to my own room, satisfied by the amount of aggravation I caused Stefan for the night. Stripping myself from the expired meat and pickle juice stenched uniform, I chucked it to a corner of the room, where it rested on top of approximately ten other ensembles: a pile of last week's sweat-drenched clothes that have been manifesting like a malignant tumor due to lack of sufficient funds to repair our faulty laundry machines.

I rummaged my drawers for my favourite pair of distressed petrol blue boyfriend-fitted jeans, hoping to pair it up with a knotted yellow tee that consisted an embroidered stitching of flowers along the neckline, and matching yellow Adidas Gazelles; a recycled look that's been going strong for two consecutive years already, and never failed me as the ultimate go-to.

For a hairstyle, I had settled on crimping my ash blonde tresses, using a standard hair clip to pin back my side-swept bangs, preventing them from obscuring my profile. 

On my way to the Tusspot's residence, I made a quick stop to the bank in order to deposit my paycheque, though the budget I had arranged for the night limited me to spending £4, which was good enough for one beer. Rolling up on their driveway, I honked once to announce my arrival. 

David opened the front door, Rachel nowhere to be seen as she usually worked overtime on Fridays. The mechanic approached my car, leaving me to roll down my window in order to speak to him.

"Is Stu ready?" Whenever Stuart wasn't around, we'd casually throw around his legal name, aware he wouldn't be able to correct us, nor whine about how that's no longer his preferred identity.

"Lexi, what're you doing here?" David's face twisted into a puzzled expression, apparently forgetting about my arrangement with Stu.

"I'm here to pick up Stuart, remember?" I shuffled through the glove compartment, pulling out a flyer Dalton had given me with information about the pub's event. "He's got a gig tonight, might even be his big break."

"Yeah, I know that, but I thought you picked him up an hour ago?" His eyes skimmed the coloured paper from left to right.

I was experiencing serious déjà vu at this moment, seeing how repetitive Murdoc's actions appeared. Huffing and rolling my eyes to express my clear annoyance, I adjusted the stick shift from Park to Reverse, ready to back out the driveway and make my way over to the pub, unlike how I had planned a week earlier. 

"My mistake, I forgot about the change of plans," I waited for David to back away from the car, cautious not to get his foot caught under my tyres. "We agreed to meet up over there instead."

"Oh, well, have fun and stay safe!" His wife's personality was rubbing off on him, waving like a grandma dismissing her grandchildren as she stood outside on her porch. 

Murdoc seemed to get off on the idea of shitting on my plans, and to him it was just another round of killing two birds with one stone. He had cracked the code to both driving me mad and abusing Stu with one measly action; This one happened to be confining the harmless disabled in a tight vehicle with him and obtaining free rein for a full hour, taking complete advantage of me not being present to supervise them.

The parking in the car park was decent, even if I would've appreciated a spot located closer to the front of the pub, I figured I could use a tad bit of exercise. 

Murdoc's car was not at all hard to distinguish, his roofless vehicle occupying a handicapped parking. Though I've never been a devoted Christian to say the least, I activated my telepathic waves with God to send him one simple prayer: Please tow Murdoc's hideously camouflaged Geep. 

"Ah, fashionably late, as always." Dalton was the first to greet me as I entered, complimenting my simple outfit along with pulling me into a cosy side-hug.

"That's the youth's interpretation of fashion?" Murdoc practically insulted, brows rising behind his bushel of fringe. 

I had forgotten for a moment of the age difference between the middle aged man and I, a complete fourteen years, though the thirty-four year old was already taking on his midlife crisis approximately a decade too soon. Disregarding his comment, I kept all my attention on the pale blondie in front of me, as I played with the knot on my tee that rested right over my belly button.

"Where's Stu?" I directed my question to Dalton, though that didn't cease Murdoc from jumping in on the conversation.

"In the loo," if his answer was that short-lived, I would've accepted it, though in this case it didn't happen to be. "With a certain lil lady."

"Stu's having a shag in the toilets?" I tilted my head, the celadon tinted man growing an elongated sneer on his face.

"I'm as surprised as you. You 'ave to be blind and deaf to willingly hit the sack with that one." Murdoc shook his head, clearly not knowing how potent Stu's mojo is.

"Who said I was surprised?" I furrowed my brows. "I'm just praying to God one of you lent him a condom, he's retired the habit of carrying one around." I seemed to be relying on God more often despite the many times I spent resenting my caretaker/neighbour for forcing Stefan and I to attend Sunday morning church with her. 

"All und'a control," Dalton nodded, Murdoc grumbling, most likely at my mention of God's name. 

"Thank God," I kept my play with words just to spite the devil-worshipper next to me. "You're an angel." 

Having heard enough, Murdoc stormed over to the bar, ordering the cheapest glass of beer from the tap. 

"So, by any chance is this mystery woman someone from the past?" Dalton led me to a vacant table, sitting in the seat across from mine as we stayed on the topic of our mutual friend. 

"He told me they'd met at his job, been talkin' fo' 'bout three weeks already?" He raised a lone hand in the air, making gestures to which I guessed was a code for one of the bartenders to cater him some drinks. 

"Really?" Suspicions rose within me, assuming Stu was keeping his fling - or whatever this is - a secret from me. "Well, as long as they didn't meet in the hands of he who shall not be named, I'm fine with it." 

"You were always lenient with Stu-Pot's sex life despite how close ya were." Dalton pointed out as I shrugged it off.

"I always felt like I had to be on top of every little thing Stu did, and though that feeling is still burning inside of me, there's no way in hell I'm getting in between who he brings to bed." The bartender arrived with two glasses of what seemed to be Guinness, placing each in front of us.

"So, you and Stu never...?" Dalton arched a brow, bringing his glass up to his lips and slowly downing the contents, not breaking eye contact as I let what he was thinking sink in.

"Of course not!" I screeched, slightly offended and grossed out, Dalton choking back on his beer as the remainder in his mouth came dribbling down his chin, permeating the neckline of his shirt. 

"I-I just thought-" he struggled a bit when it came to grabbing a napkin from the dispenser placed on the middle of the table. "Eventually you two woulda done somethin'. Ya know how opposite sex relationships work."

"Stu is literally like a brother to me. That's the equivalent of asking if me and Stefan-" I couldn't bare to finish that statement, the mere thought of incest and hooking up with Stu nauseating me. I quickly snatched my filled glass, chugging down every last drop. 

"Okay, okay, let's talk 'bout somethin' else," he reached his hand out to place atop mine, my tongue swiping over my upper lip to clean the remnants off. "Anythin' you want."

"Well, I do have a question." I sat up in my seat, slipping my hand out of his touch and adjusting them upon my lap.

"Shoot," he grabbed a peanut from the basket resting in front of us, not sparing a single second to crack and pop it into his mouth without a misstep. 

"Does Maisie co-own this bar with you? Or vise-versa?" I took interest out of pure curiosity. 

"Did she tell you that?" He munched on the nut.

"It might have been implied." I nodded, reaching out for a peanut as well, digging my untrimmed polish-chipped nails into the side of it in hopes to open it in less than two seconds.

"Well whatever she told you was a flat-out lie. She was only 'ere that day to bring in some boxes I forgot over at hers. 'ate to admit it, but she got a stronger arm than me." He took the shell from my sore fingers, taking a shot at cracking it.

"Sure looks it, too." I began to wonder how much longer it'd take for Stu to wrap up his business, perhaps even introduce me to the "lucky girl".

"Think I should go knock down there?" It was as if Dalton could read my mind, placing the freed nut into the palm of my hand before pushing his chair out. "It's 'bout time they get up on there and start playin' some." 

"Sure." I kept it short, watching as he strutted to the other side of the pub where the restrooms were placed.

"So I see you know the owner." A brunet I hadn't notice walk up to my table stood in front of me, steel eyebrow piercing glinting as one of the dim ceiling lights was shining down on him, helping with the revelation of his tattoo scattered arms. His hair was buzzed at the sides, the strip of hair left at the centre of his head pulled into a ponytail. 

"What's it to you?" I grabbed Dalton's abandoned drink, sipping on it in order to occupy myself from the Jared Leto look alike, trying not to let it slip that his appearance intimidated my self-confidence.

"I came here to try and score some, so I'm hoping the two of you are siblings, or at least in some way related?" It was certainly an absurd pickup line, one that trumps the others I've heard in my existence. 

"O-oh," I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling the outside of it grow heated. "I'm just an old friend." 

"Friend as in with benefits?" 

"The only benefits I've been getting from him is free beer." I raised the glass as if we were toasting. 

"Think you can hook me up with a few drinks my way?" He chuckled, becoming comfortable around me as he pulled out a chair for him to sit. 

"If you're the proud owner of a fanny, maybe I could persuade him." I evaluated him, eyes trailing vertically. 

"Did someone say fanny?" Murdoc held a lit cig between his index and middle finger, bringing it up to his chapped lips to take a drag in. 

"Why are you here?" I groaned, my elbow propped on the table's surface as I let my four fingers press against my temple, my thumb resting right below my cheekbone. 

"You're the one who took it upon yourself and accepted the gig." Flakes snowed from the butt of his fag, landing close by my trainers.

"Oh, you're part of the band performing tonight?" The brunet whose name I've still yet to learn sat up, his brow raising and giving it all the more reason for his piercing to shine. 

"Mildred. In a band. Ha!" Just as I was growing comfortable with my newfound acquaintance, Satan in disguise comes along and screws everything up, forcing out a chortle after revealing my despised middle name in front of an extremely, handsome man. "Not with her shite taste in music."

"At least I don't have shite taste in hairstyles." I backfired, though it definitely sounded better in my head.

"Nah, you 'ave that too." He pinched a lock of my hair between his thumb and index finger of his free hand. 

"Yeahhh, I think I should get going now." The stranger scooted from his chair, a feeble grin playing amongst his lips. "Nice to meet you, Mildred."

"That's not my name!" I face-planted onto the table, Piercing Boy not able to hear me as he was already out of range. 

"Sad to say your divvy of a friend 'as better luck at getting laid than you." Murdoc taunted, now possessing Piercing Boy's seat. 

"I gave 'em six more minutes to wrap it up and get out 'ere, that should be enuff, right?" Dalton joined us, reclaiming his beer. "I mean, I don't mind startin' a tad bit late, but I got a show to run eventually." 

"Don't worry, I have a secret weapon that'll get him outta there if he refuses." 

"What're you gonna do? Turn him off by revealing your face?" Murdoc found every opportunity to humiliate me. Seems like I was Stu's scapegoat. 

"Go fuck yourself." I gave my temples a brisk massage before heading to the bar, settling for whatever drink £4 gets me. 

I would've preferred something stronger than a watered down Jägerbomb, though what more could I have wished for when I'm nearly up to my due-for-a-tweeze eyebrows in unpaid bills. The shot left me a couple pence short from ordering even the cheapest of the drinks, forcing me to retire the brief session and retreat to the table occupied by the notorious piss taker and his upcoming victim. 

"Looks like Pot's finally out." Dalton announced, a dishevel-haired Stu strolled down the aisle, a figure only mere inches shorter than him following close behind. "And in great timin', seems like we got a full 'ouse now."

"'Bout fuckin' time, we're not getting paid for you to have a quick shag with a slag." Murdoc put out his fag, tossing it into Dalton's half empty beer glass.

"You're not getting paid at all." I rolled my eyes, impatience growing on me as I wished nothing more than for the bassist to get on that stage and leave me alone for the rest of the night. "Now go! People are waiting for you to play." 

Stu didn't bother to acknowledge my presence, not even to spare a second's glance my way as he ineptly waved his pale bony hand to the rocker chick. 

"You know Stu?" The Jane Doe's voice was definitely girlier than the others scattered about here in Crawley, pleasing to my ears that she wasn't another imitation of Mischa Barton. Her buck teeth were revealed as she spoke, though she's the first person I've met who was actually able to pull of the genetic look. 

"I'm an old friend of his." I informed her, to which she whipped out a weathered down pack of PallMall, occupied by four - now three and counting - cigarettes. 

"That's an und'a statement," Dalton snorted, pushing his contaminated beer away from him. "She's a human encyclopaedia for that kid."

"He's exaggerating, please ignore him." I assured the obsidian haired woman. It wouldn't have been the first time I've made one of Stu's potential love interests feel "insecure" because of our friendship, though I couldn't blame them; I'd have felt the same way if the roles were reversed. "Uhh, so, what's your name?"

"You're Stu's human encyclopaedia, you should know." I couldn't tell if she was joking or serious at the time, giving me nothing more than a subtle twitch of her threadlike eyebrows as she pulled out a rusty, scratched up white lighter, bringing flames to the butt of the cig pressed between her bordeaux stained lips. 

"I really don't..." I shook my head as Murdoc plucked on the strings of his bass, the speakers on either side of the stage resonating the whole bar. 

"Paula Cracker." She removed the lit cig now captive in her long and skinny fingers, freshly coated with a thick and somewhat choppy layer of nail polish, one that matched the shade of her rounded lips that parted in the form of a donut to blow out her smoke, the putrid odour of nicotine clouting my nostrils. You'd think growing up in Britain I'd be more accustomed to the whole smoking scene, but that's not the case. "Yours?"

"Alexia Powell." Stu's alluring falsetto ricocheted as he performed a cover of Don't You Want Me, originally sung by his all-time favourite band The Human League, a sense of nostalgia coursing through my whole soul as I let out a gasp. Sure, I'd known for the past week that they were gonna sing a cover, but not this.   
"This is our song!"

"What?" Paula's lip was slightly snarled, brows denting so deep I thought they'd actually flow into the bridge of her nose. 

"I'm gonna go order us some shots, back in a jiffy!" Dalton abandoned us, assuming a catfight would break out due to my simple four words.

"I-I mean, your song!" I tried to wash off any evidence of my excitement. "Yeah, Stu told me he was gonna serenade a lucky doll during the first track."

"But you said you didn't know me?" Her eyebrow resorted to arching rather than creasing, not buying my fib.

"Huh?" My eyes darted 'round the room, composing yet another quick fabrication. "No, I didn't know your name!" 

"I'm pretty sure you-"

"Let's focus on the band, yeah?" I rudely interrupted, but I couldn't help it, a bitch was nervous, though a bitch was also coming off as idiotic, as I was the only one cheering Stu on during their performance. 

I would've fancied getting to know Paula rather than spend a damn hour listening to the boys burn through the 80s, but there wasn't much I could do seeing how I just pulled a fast one on the poor girl.

"Thankfully I got anoth'a band to take over for 'em," Dalton leaned close to me so he wouldn't have to shout over the music. The virtuosos up on the stage had to have played about thirteen songs already, and through all of them I swear I could feel Paula's protruding eyes burning a hole on me. "Pot had agreed to a smoke sesh up in my flat, you down?" 

"Who else is going?" I asked primarily to find out if Murdoc had any intentions on tagging along, though Paula may have took it the wrong way. 

"Me, why?" She cocked a famous brow, her chin resting atop her hand. "Is it that you don't want me near your precious-"

"Please, don't even finish that sentence." I held my hand up, silencing her as I resisted the urge to purge all the bargained alcohol I binged. 

"You 'ave a thing for Stu, don't you?" She didn't dare raise her voice in the pub, and although she was absolutely, no doubt about it, cross with me, I was at least grateful for her consideration. 

"Why does everyone seem to think that?!" I huffed, burying my head down on the sticky, sappy-scented oak table, arms folded atop my cranium in the way a young child shielding itself from the reality of their bickering parents would. 

"Paula, you've sincerely got it all wrong," Dalton stepped in yet another potential catfight for me, grabbing my attention as I sat up for what he had to say next. 

"How could I possibly be wrong? It's clear she doesn't even want me 'round." She awaited an answer despite having stolen his direct chance to speak. 

"Well, fo' starters, she 'as a thing fo' me." Dalton said ever so casually, though his calm demeanor didn't prevent him from winking.

"What?" I blinked, wondering how he pulled that idea up from thin air. 

"Relax, luv," he cupped my hand in both of his silklike ones, boring dead into my irises with his chilling blues. "I und'a stand you wanna keep it on tha low, but ya know how jealous I get when people start assumin' some's stirrin' up 'tween you 'n Stu-Pot."

"So, you two are dating?" Her sharp brown eyes narrowed, skeptical as to whether or not she should believe us.

"Y-Yes." I nodded, staring back into Dalton's eyes as a shiver crept up my spine, spreading onto my thighs and arms as goosebumps arose, triggering the once resting butterflies in my abdomen.

"I guess." She sighed as Murdoc's incessant strumming concluded, signaling that it was time for this tight squad to take it upstairs. 

Paula didn't choose to wait up on Dalton and I, instead taking off with Stu and making their own way to my pretend boyfriend's flat, leaving a certain pale green bassist to third wheel for approximately three minutes. 

"Like 'ell I'm joining whatever shit show's to come up in there," Murdoc stuffed his hands into the pockets of his grey jeans, staring up at the ceiling for some unknown reason. "I just wanted to tell you, 2D and I will be leaving the state real soon."

"What?" Dalton had ditched me once again, going up a floor to make sure the new couple weren't trashing his place.

"Yeah, I found this really thrashing, gigantic disused studio in the middle of nowhere the other day," he bobbed his head like everything was all peachy. "I was just nicking 'round town looking for a place to call home, when this brilliant idea 'ad hit me!" 

"I swear to God, if packing your shit up and fleeing to the Americas with Stu is on your agenda, I-"

"Ah, those fat chavs ain't ready for us fellow Brits just yet. We gotta think smaller, but not too small." He kept playing 'round with his hands in the air, adjusting the space between them in order to demonstrate what he meant by "small" and "not too small".

"Oh, so now we're talking about the size of your knob," I held a pinky up, wiggling it about his face as he growled before smacking my hand down. "Fine, tell me 'bout this "brilliant idea" you had already."

Rolling his eyes, I could tell he didn't want to give me the satisfaction of letting me in on his oh-so-genius plan, though he really wanted me to catch a whiff of it.

"I figured I'd do a bit of brushing up on the world wide web, ya know, the WWW, when I came 'cross this intriguing - need I say dazzling - website." He propped his elbow up on the wall, the side of his head pressed against his closed fist as a smug grin played on his lips, expecting me to applaud at his impressive and deliberate research; Shall I note the sarcasm?

"Lemme guess, you found illegal porn for free?" I folded my arms, growing tired at the failure of suspense he was trying so hard to build. 

"You sodding wastegash, 'ave you 'onestly not been listenin' to a word I've said?!" He removed his arm from the dry wall, raising it as I flinched, expecting to receive a blow his way. "Now why the fuck are you flinching?"

"Gee, I don't know, maybe because you got your fucking palm spread above me like you're 'bout ready to strike me!" I spat, grabbing his wrist and flinging it. "Go on and spit it out already!" 

"Alright you mad fucking cow, it was gigantic-disused-haunted-studios-in-the-middle-of-nowhere.com" He blurted, and at that moment I couldn't tell whether to burst out into cackles or slap the green hue out of him. 

"This is the most idiotic thing I've ever heard, and if you thought for even a second that you were moving Stu out of Crawley alongside you, you're even madder than I believed you to be!" I couldn't help but put my hands on his chest, pushing him against the wall.

"That boy may be a dullard, but he sure as 'ell is capable of making his own decisions without Mary bloody Poppins breathin' down his damn neck!" He pushed me back, causing me to stagger farther than he did as I didn't have a wall to back me up. "I've talked it over with the git, and he was more than thrilled to 'ave been finally given the chance to escape the grips of such a controlling freak of a woman. We are leaving first thing in the mornin'." 

Murdoc scoffed, unintentionally ramming his shoulder into mine but I knew it made him content, exiting the pub in a swift motion as he left me with my eyes unable to grasp the concepts of blinking, heart pace spiking and nostrils flaring as I gasped for more air. 

The feeling of my legs melted away, my hand clutching the centre of my tee as if doing so would replace the role of my calves and support my structure, though this action showed to be completely ineffective as I plummeted onto the floor, pleading for nothing more than a wind of oxygen to continue circulating inside of me.


End file.
